


.9

by ravenhairedtrickster



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhairedtrickster/pseuds/ravenhairedtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles based off of "Crossover"</p>
            </blockquote>





	.9

**Author's Note:**

> I have sinned.
> 
> I haven't finished watching DS9 yet so please forgive any errors. Mirrorverse in any Trek is my favourite.

Terok Nor is never quiet. The steady hum of ore being processed penetrates even the heaviest walls. It rivals the Klingons, loud and boisterous, usually looking for a drunken fight howling about honour as they drink Quark into bankruptcy. 

It’s a poor choice of word, however. He rarely makes profit anymore, Cardassians, Klingons and Bajoran all drink for free and latium is a rare commodity. Especially when he’s hiding what he does acquire, from the illegal smuggling of Terran slaves, away from the likes of his meddling brother Rom - and Odo. 

Quark shudders at the latter as he pours authentic Romulan ale for Sisko. He doesn’t wonder why the Terran needs the vile drink, they’re not all that different in the grand scheme of things. 

Only difference is as a “free” Ferengi, Quark is just above Sisko on the pecking order. In the end they are both pawns for very important people, pets that are spared the more gruesome aspects of Terok Nor life in favour of entertaining their patrons. 

Quark watches Sisko retreat to his usual spot in the bar. A high seat near a pillar that he leans against as he nurses his drink, an almost sleepy expression on his face. Quark almost envies him, Intendant Kira is usually fair, Sisko is lucky for her mercy. 

For all that Sisko endures he is given a long leash, a small crew and a runabout. Quark turns his back to the man as he stores the ale away, wipes a section of the counter down for something to do. He grimaces at the sound of Garak and his entourage as he wins dabo, again. It’s rigged and although precious latium slips away with each round Garak plays, Quark can’t find it in himself to truly hate the Cardassian. He scratches Garak’s back and Garak only hustles him a little when he’s devoid of Odo. 

Today, Quark sees Garak has brought his newest obsession. Julian Bashir, a Terran doctor who had the misfortune of being on Bajor at the wrong time. Garak’s arm is snug around the man's waist and it’s clear that the Cardassian cares not for Quark’s dabo girls. 

He looks away when Garak hungrily laps at Julian’s clavicle. 

“Never thought you to be a prude.” Odo sneers.

Quark startles. “Odo!” He says meekly. He turns to face the changeling. 

“Do they bother you?” Odo asks, leering down at Quark with an unreadable expression. 

“Of course not,” Quark says. He wipes the counter nervously, unsure of Odo’s mood.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re lying,” Odo suggests and Quark goes rigid as Odo’s fingers curl around his throat. “Are you lying, Quark?”

There’s a promise in Odo’s words. Quark sucks in a breath, his hands coming to rest on Odo’s wrist. 

“Yes,” he admits. Odo nods curtly. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir,” Quark grunts around the pressure on his neck. 

“Good,” Odo mutters and Quark struggles as the changeling’s grip tightens. He chokes on a wail and thrashes until black spots dot his vision. Odo chuckles somewhere beyond the encroaching void, a firm leg presses between his thighs and Quark briefly thinks Odo must’ve morphed through the counter. 

“Lie to me again and I’ll do more than throttle you,” Odo breathes, his words a promise that brush over the shell of Quark’s ear. He shudders violently at the stimulation and chokes on air as Odo lessens his hold. 

In the distance, beneath the noise of his own pulse pounding within his ears, he hears another cheer from the dabo tables. It’s a brief distraction, a split second of forgetting where he is in his oxygen deprived delirium. Odo moving against him brings him back. Back to the leg between his own, an unusually shapeless face nuzzling his ear - he gasps around Odo’s grip and resigns himself to the fact that he's hard against the painful press of Odo’s knee.

“Should I have you here?” Odo asks, teasing. 

Quark shakes his head. “No, sir,” he pleads. “Wouldn’t be good for business.”

Odo laughs at this, a truly remarkable sound that is usually laced with malice. 

“Garak can’t touch you,” Odo says. “Offending him wouldn’t cost you anything.”

“Just my dignity,” Quark grinds and Odo releases him, his cool fingers caressing the length of Quark’s abused throat. 

“You have no dignity,” Odo says simply. “Bashir has none either, that’s why he’s over there taking everything Garak gives him without complaint.” 

“Not because he’s a Terran?”

“Because he’s a Terran he isn’t allowed dignity, if Garak so wanted him naked all the time he’d be naked.” Odo stares down at Quark. “Our little… arrangement is the same. You are mine.”

“Can I assume your question was rhetorical then?” Quark says slowly. 

Odo smiles. “Yes.”

Quark yelps as Odo bears down on him, maneuvering him so he’s bent backwards over the counter. 

“It would be cruel of me to leave you like this,” Odo says, palming Quark’s cock through the pliable material he wears.

“Couldn’t have that now could we,” Quark says sarcastically, voice high.

Odo pinches Quark’s ear and gives two bruising thrusts against Quark’s clothed buttocks.

“No we certainly can’t.”


End file.
